Law of the Jungle
by Etesia
Summary: Stiles and Kurt go to Jungle. Sebastian is, well, Sebastian.


Julia wanted Stiles in the Glee 'verse with Sebastian hitting on him hard and Stiles not knowing what to do. This is—as always happens with me and prompts—not quite that. But it IS Stiles and Kurt as best friends hanging out with drag queens at Jungle and Sebastian hitting on Stiles.

Work Text:

It had been a while since Stiles had last been to Jungle, and even longer since he'd made it there on a Saturday night when a good DJ was playing and the place was properly packed. The bass beat of the music was thumping hard and near-deafening in Stiles's ears, the crowd a single writhing mass pressing out from the dance floor.

Stiles grabbed Kurt's hand to keep them together as they tried to make their way to the far corner of the room. Stiles knew the ladies would be set up at their usual table—close to the bar and optimally placed for people watching. And, boy, did they ever love people watching. It was like a spectator sport, complete with cheering and making bets on who would score.

True to form, the occupants of the corner table were yelling and catcalling, audible even above the music and the sound of the hundreds of people crowded into the space. Stiles felt Kurt's hand tighten its hold against his, and Stiles could tell from a quick glance at Kurt's face that Kurt was already feeling overwhelmed.

"I promise they don't bite," Stiles said loudly, speaking right next to Kurt's ear. "I can't promise they won't touch, but they'll keep it above the belt. Except maybe Shirley." Kurt gave him a look that clearly said that Stiles's pep talk wasn't exactly helping, so Stiles just shot him an encouraging smile and kept dragging him towards the table.

"Hello, ladies," Stiles said, stopping in front of the table of drag queens.

"Well, well," said a drawling, throaty voice, "if it isn't our little Stallion. Haven't seen you around here lately."

Stiles grinned, shouting his answer over the noise. "I've been busy, Shirley. But I promise to come visit more often."

"You'd better," Shirley said. And then her gaze hit Kurt, standing just behind Stiles's shoulder, and her grin turned predatory. Stiles could tell Kurt was squaring his shoulders—not used to the atmosphere of the club, much less the relentless gaze of five drag queens—as he stepped out into better view of the table. "My, my. And what tasty little treat have you brought for us tonight?"

"Ladies," Stiles said, clapping his hand on Kurt's shoulder supportively, "this is my best friend, Kurt. Kurt, these are the ladies: Coco Chanelle, Kandee Cane, Virginia Mary, Roxy Sox, and the infamous Shirley Temptress." Stiles pointed each to each as he introduced them.

"Are you boys joining us?" Kandee asked, reaching around Coco to pat the back of a free chair invitingly. How they even managed to keep free chairs in such a crowded place Stiles would never know.

"Only if you promise to play nice," Stiles said, giving Shirley a pointed look.

"Oh, honey, we're always nice," Shirley said. Somehow she made it sound almost like a threat, and Stiles saw Kurt's eyes widen momentarily. Stiles couldn't help but laugh as he caught Kurt's slightly terrified glance between the two free spots at the table: one next to Coco, and the other beside Shirley.

"Kurt, why don't you take the spot next to Coco, and I'll keep an eye on Shirley over here," Stiles said. Shirley pouted at him as he slid less than gracefully into the chair next to her; she looked at him like he'd taken a shiny new toy from her grasp.

Stiles watched Coco pull out the chair and Kurt perching himself uncertainly on the edge of it, looking uncomfortable at being watched so intently. After a moment, Kurt turned to Coco, and Stiles just heard him say, "I like your name." Coco smiled brightly and seemed to strike up a conversation about fashion, if the way she was suddenly pawing at Kurt's neck to check the tags on his shirt was any indication.

Stiles's attention was pulled back to the others by Shirley's hands on him; one on his knee and the other slung across the back of his neck, fingers playing against his left ear as she leaned close to the right. "So what's the story with tasty treat over there?"

"Kurt? I told you, he's my best friend," Stiles said, completely unphased by the touching.

"So you two aren't …" Shirley trailed off, intent clear in her voice. Stiles shook his head. "Is he single then?" She asked. Stiles saw Virginia and Roxy lean closer, as if to hear the answer better.

"Engaged," Stiles told them. "And too young for you anyway," he said with a laugh, earning a gentle smack for making a comment about Shirley's age.

Virginia and Roxy sank back into their seats with dramatic sighs, muttering about "all the cute ones being taken."

"Except for our little Stallion," Shirley said affectionately, patting Stiles's cheek. Stiles rolled his eyes. As if his best friend being engaged wasn't enough of a reminder about his own perpetual single status.

"And on that note," Stiles said, prying himself from Shirley's grip, "I'm going to hit the bar and see if we can't drum up some sexytimes for Stiles."

Stiles extracted himself from the table, throwing a glance at Kurt to make sure he was okay to be left there. Kurt was caught up in a heated discussion with Coco, whose knowledge of fashion seemed to be nearly as extensive as Kurt's, so Stiles wandered off to the bar on his own.

Stiles fought his way through the crush of people and sidled up as close to the bar as he could to wait for a bartender to be free. He passes the time by checking out guys, trying to find someone who struck his fancy. There were plenty of attractive men—there always were—but no one really caught his eye until he glimpsed broad shoulders and stubble.

Just as he'd been about ready to give up on drinks in order to pursue the man, Stiles was caught up against the bar, long arms caging him in. Stiles flailed momentarily, arms pinwheeling while he tried not to run headlong into the figure blocking him in.

"So, the Stallion, huh?" The man asked in what Stiles assumed was meant to be a seductive manner. "Do you live up to that nickname?" He glanced pointedly at Stiles's crotch.

Stiles snorted a laugh and watched the man's charming smile drop just slightly. "Who are you, and how do you even know that nickname?" Stiles asked, angling his body towards the bar in an attempt both to flag down a bartender and to rebuff the man.

"Sebastian, and I walked by your table earlier. I recognized you as soon as I saw you standing here. Plaid doesn't exactly blend in around this place, sweetheart."

Stiles glanced down at his red plaid shirt, even though he was already well aware of what it looked like and how much it stood out in a sea of black mesh and general half-nakedness. He shrugged. "I like this shirt."

"Oh, I never said that I didn't like it," Sebastian said. "I just think it would look better on my floor." Stiles laughed again at the cheesiness of the line, but he he couldn't deny that it was having an effect on him. Stiles wasn't used to people hitting on him—especially guys—and certainly never this hard, and it wasn't like the guy was unattractive. Not quite the burly bearded sort he'd had his eye on, sure, but attractive in a tall, smirky sort of way.

Sebastian was also staring intently at Stiles, gaze hot and full of intent that was making Stiles squirm. "Sooo …" Stiles said, drawing out the word and looking anywhere but at Sebastian's face. Stiles had told the others that he was looking to get laid, but really he'd mostly been looking for someone to make out with on the dance floor and maybe consider going home with far, far later. This guy seemed more like he was about to strip Stiles naked and eat him alive right there at the bar. It was unsettling—if by unsettling you meant "incredibly arousing."

"So?" Sebastian asked in useless reply, eyes fixed on Stiles's mouth, which was still pursed and silently continuing his trailed-off word.

Stiles was about to do something potentially stupid—and probably terribly fun—when he caught sight of Coco standing just behind Sebastian. She spotted Stiles a moment later, took in his position still caught between Sebastian's arms, and gave an exaggerated wink of approval.

Stiles watched her disappear back into the crowd and then began moving. "I should get back to my friends," he said, realizing that Coco's appearance meant that Kurt would be probably be looking for him. Stiles ducked out from under Sebastian's arm, and he hesitated for a moment, almost reluctant to leave. Stiles glanced back over his shoulder. "Will you be here next weekend?" he asked, speaking before he could stop the words.

Sebastian's grin widened dramatically, almost to the point of being frightening. "I'll be around," Sebastian said. "And don't worry, I'll be able to find you in the crowd."

Stiles nodded once and then forced himself to start walking, pushing through the crowd to get back to the table.

"I thought you were going to get drinks," Kurt said, giving Stiles a puzzled look as he flopped, empty handed, back into his chair.

"I didn't have much luck at the bar," Stiles said.

"Oh, I wouldn't exactly say that," Coco said, winking at Stiles as she slid back into her own chair, drink—complete with fruit and tiny umbrella—in hand. "I'd say it looked like you were about to get very lucky."

Stiles groaned and dropping his head onto his folded arms against the tabletop.

"But now you're back here with us," Shirley said, sounding almost disappointed.

Stiles looked up, ready to ask why she sounded like she didn't want him there, and saw a disgruntled Shirley passing a twenty over to Kandee, whose pleased grin rivaled Sebastian's.

It tooks Stiles a moment to figure it out. "You're betting on me?" He demanded.

"Mhmm," Kandee hummed happily, "and you're awfully close to buying me a new pair of heels!"

"We've been betting on you for years now, darling," Shirley said, "but at least I'm betting on you getting laid."

Stiles dropped his head back onto his arms with a pained noise, perking up only when his mind travelled back to Sebastian. Stiles would have to tell Shirley to up her bet on him for the next weekend; after all, if anyone deserved a new pair of shoes it was the person betting in his favour.


End file.
